


Hawke In Skyhold

by 8ron



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Romantic Comedy, beginning of cullen and inquisitor relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-26 09:05:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3845164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8ron/pseuds/8ron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Err… Yes, I do do that." He said uncertainly, feeling very much like she was leading him into a trap. It was like being back in the gallows, struggling to control Hawke and her antics. Worrying that the young woman would turn him prematurely grey while he tried to explain that 'no Hawke, he wasn't going to accept any bribes, and would she stop bringing her aposte friends to the gallows?!' It had been exhausting. She was exhausting.</p>
<p>Hawke has one night in Skyhold. Cullen only has to suffer her teasing for a few hours. But The Champion is relentless; and while he really just wants to talk with Lavellan, Hawke and Varric are determined to make up for lost time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happy Reunions

"Andraste's dimpled butt cheeks, if it isn't my  _favourite_  Knight Captain!"

Maker no. Cullen flinched and hunched down into his pauldrons, as if he could hide within himself and she wouldn't notice him. But it was too late. He'd known this reunion was unavoidable as soon as the rumours that Hawke was in Skyhold had surfaced, and so he forced a strained smile as a surprisingly strong arm whacked him on the back.

"Don't worry, I'm here. Ready to save your grumpy self yet again." Straight to teasing, of course. Typical. He turned to face her with a sigh, receiving a wink in return. "Hawke to the rescue and all that."

Noticing they'd lost the commander's attention, the soldiers had slowly stopped practicing, swords held loosely in their hands as they turned to watch. Already he could hear whispers by the back. Unsure if that was really her, if this was the Champion from the stories. He wondered if Hawke could hear them too, if the rumours bothered her.

"Hawke, if I remember correctly you were always getting me  _into_  trouble." She hadn't changed much, at first glance. Still the same messy, dark hair, cut short with a knife. The same devilish grin that just screamed mischief. Red armour covered in mismatched buckles and spiked iron, yet unable to hide the cuts on one arm from her blood magic, a fact he tried to ignore.

Just like back in Kirkwall, Varric was stood loyally by her side, and the dwarf looked exceedingly happier than usual. But there was something else, a weariness in the back of her eyes, a small wobble in her smile. The jester act was not its usual 100% natural self, and there was just a small part of her that was trying. "And that is… no longer my title. It's just Commander now." He added, very regretful that she had decided to come visit him while he was with the new recruits. Knowing her, she'd probably planned it that way.

"Yes well, titles come and go. But luckily the snarky memories remain." She waved a hand dismissively. "I hear you're an advisor now. Dishing out advise,  _advising._ "

"Err… Yes, I do do that." He said uncertainly, feeling very much like she was leading him into a trap. It was like being back in the gallows, struggling to control Hawke and her antics. Worrying that the young woman would turn him prematurely grey while he tried to explain that 'no Hawke, he wasn't going to accept any bribes, and would she stop bringing her aposte friends to the gallows?!' It had been exhausting.  _She_  was exhausting.

"Just imagine," Hawke purred, pulling him from his unhappy memories, "if you lot had managed to find me, you'd be  _my_  advisor right now." She laughed, as if the very idea was hilarious, wounding his pride and ruffling his feathers. "Telling me which belt suits my eyes, making sure I don't wear white socks with black shoes, that sort of lark."

"That's not the kind of advice I – is there something you need?" He said with a clear of his throat, wanting to be rid of her quickly before she embarrassed him in front of the recruits. Already he could hear a few snickers.

This, however, had clearly been the wrong question to ask, as Hawke got an evil glint in her eyes that made his spine shudder – and not in the good way.

"Well, now that you mention it – "

Oh no.

"Varric's introducing me to his new friends. We're all going to play Wicked Grace, and I would be simply  _heartbroken_  if you did not join us."

That was it? He frowned down at her oddly, wondering if the little woman had lost her knack for trouble.

"Urm, I'm actually very busy, Hawke."

"Don't be silly, Commander. I'm only here for the day, and our dear Inquisitor said you'd be happy to join."

"Gwen?"

"Will be playing with us, of course." Her smile turned all the cheekier, and he wondered how much gossip she'd been getting from Varric. A lot, if the way he avoided eye contact was anything to go by.

"I suppose I could join later, for a little while," he gave in, clearing his throat and rubbing his neck. If Gwen was there, surely it wouldn't be too terrible?

"Great!" Hawke whacked him on the arm again, almost making him stumble. "Knew you would. We'll see you later, Curly." She sauntered off before he could protest the dreaded nickname, Varric following quickly.

***

"How much are you ganna tease Curly, Hawke?" Varric asked as they made their way into the tavern. It was packed full with off-duty guards, Cullen's men, he thought with a faint hint of amusement. But at least it was warm, and had cheap alcohol – which he, guiltily, had to admit was much sweeter than anything The Hanged Man had ever produce. And if Hawke could ignore the jaw slack stares, then so could he.

"Tease? Varric, I never tease. I'm simply being friendly." She scoffed and kicked out a chair near the back of the room, collapsing into it and immediately putting her feet onto the table.

"Your friendly has a way of making his ears burn."

"I know, isn't it funny?"

"Damn hilarious." Varric conceded, deciding there was no reining Hawke in even if he'd wanted to.

They ordered drinks and settled down in the corner, fully prepared to linger in the tavern all afternoon if it meant they wouldn't be bothered. Hawke had met the Inquisitor, given her all the useful information she possessed, made plans for her leave tomorrow morning, and was now ready to catch up with her favourite dwarf.

"Whats the food like here? I'm still not over Sandal's enchantment soup. Blurgh. Thumb in the bowl,  _every time._ "

He grunted and looked over her shoulder; what Varric saw there made his spine stiffen.

By the door was Cassandra. Looking angry and nervous and absolutely terrifying all at once.

"Shit."

"Varric? The soup? Hey. What just crawled up your ass?" Hawke said, giving him an odd look, oblivious to Cassandra slowly wandering to their table. Surely she wouldn't try to kill him in front of Hawke? Even if she did, his best friend would protect him, right?

Or point and laugh. Hard to say.

"Ahem. E-Excuse me." Hawke turned to stare up at Cassandra, who was a deep shade of crimson as soon as she'd caught the trouble maker's attention.

Now  _this_  he hadn't expected.

"My name is Cassandra Pentaghast and I read – I mean, I heard, I- "

"The seeker here," Varric said, smooth as butter and thoroughly enjoying himself, "is your biggest fan, Hawke."

This brushed her ego to no end, just like he'd known it would, and Hawke looked to Cassandra with new found interest; grinning from ear to ear. "You don't say? I've never had a fan before. Usually people are trying to kill me."

"I would never! I mean to say – I'm not a fan. Well, I am, but I… I just respect –" she was acting worse than he'd expected, and Varric tried to forget how she'd put a knife through his book as he rescued Cassandra from further embarrassment.

"Why don't you join us, Seeker? I was just about to tell Hawke about that dragon you killed last week." He purred, smirking. She owed him for this.

"Oh! The Inquisitor did most of the work. I just – I – I would love to." She sat down next to him, looking thoroughly uncomfortable yet somehow still happy to be part of the little group.

"So Cassandra," Hawke leaned forward, looking grave, "hows the food here?"


	2. Old Stories

It was dark when Cullen stomped across the ramparts, and only a few drunken individuals dotted the grounds below. He was late on purpose, hoping by the time he got there the group would be nearly done with their game and he'd only need linger a few minutes. Maybe talk to Gwen about anything other than work, then escape before Hawke could hit him again.

Striding through the door with an authoritative confidence, he found the group laughing at the back of the room. Iron Bull, Josephine, Cassandra, Sera, and Gwen were there already, seated around The Champion and drinking merrily. Cullen had hoped to grab a chair next to Gwen, but found her at the end of the table and – of course - next to Hawke, who was leaning forward to whisper in her ear with a cheeky sneer. Gwen laughed in response, and Cullen found himself desperate to know what she'd said. Though chances were it had just been a bad pun.

"Commander!" She noticed him first, and Hawke announced his presence with a swish of her tankard. The others turned to grin up at him, cheeks all red with drink. One of the bad things about being late; everyone else was already drunk, while you just had a lot of catching up to do. Maker help him. "Good, you're here. We waited for you."

"You did?" He tried to keep the horror from his voice.

"Of course. You're the only one I'm sure to beat, I can't wait to win those fluffy shoulder pads of yours." She said, flashing him her teeth in a menacing smile. She was baiting him; he knew it, and she knew it. Yet Cullen fell for the trap anyway, clenching his jaw as he took a seat across from her and next to Josephine.

"Don't be so sure of yourself, Hawke." Varric said, cracking his neck while he shuffled the cards. "It's been months since you played."

"How often did you play this game?" Gwen asked, smiling kindly. "Back in Kirkwall I mean."

"All the time. When I wasn't saving grumpy Templars." Hawke didn't look up from her cards, but smirked as Iron Bull and Sera started to chortle. Cassandra too, which was surprising, he didn't think he'd ever even heard her laugh.

"Oh I like this one!" Bull told no one in particular.

Varric spluttered and hid behind his cards, Hawke flashed the dwarf a look that no doubt spoke a thousand words between them. Cullen thought he understood. It was damn ironic that Iron Bull had taken to her. Hawke and Qunari didn't usually get along.

As Josephine dealed him in, Cullen accepted the fact that he was going to be stuck here a while, so stretched out his legs and frowned down at his cards.

A bad hand. Typical.

***

"I swear on the Maker's dirty chamber pot! Curls, tight curls. I barely recognize him now." Hawke slurred, drunk and happy and still determined to embarrass him. The others laughed, but it was a teasing he didn't much mind. There was nothing cold behind their giggles, and he was too busy blushing from Gwen's amused glances in any case, continuously catching her eye only to look away with burning ears.

"What did you think I called him Curly for?" Varric said next to the rogue.

"I thought it was an ironic thing. Like how my nicknames Tiny."

"Wait, then why is mine Ruffles?" Josephine asked, earning another round of laughs while she looked around, bemused.

Hawke had captured the fond attention of the table for the entire night, and he wasn't surprised. He'd forgotten just how easy it was for her to win a crowd. Even Gwen leaned in to listen to her stories, giggling at the jokes and eyeing his hair as if she couldn't quite believe it.

" _Anyway,"_  Hawke said, distracting Josephine and saving her dwarf from undoubtable trouble, "so there he is, curly hair an' all, giving us his best glare and telling us to go away. Then BAM!" She slammed both hands on the table, sending drinks and cards flying. Varric smirked and stared as a few hands were revealed, before careful fingers hid them once more – except for Josephine, who had kept a firm grip on her deck all night. "Demons everywhere. About ten or twelve."

"Fifteen at least." Varric corrected. She didn't seem to mind, and continued regardless.

"So we help Curly out. I kill about, eh, eighteen. Varric gets seventeen."

"I counted nineteen."

"There were three demons. Three." Cullen corrected, but if she heard she chose to ignore him, carrying on with a dramatic wave.

"And afterwards, all he can say is 'I appreciate your assistance,' after I saved his  _life._  Really you have no idea how rude he used to be. So that was the first time, the second –"

"Hawke." He growled in a firm warning, and she tilted her head towards him with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Knight-Captain?"

"It was three demons. And I was exceedingly grateful, and you didn't save my life  _that_ often."

"At least five times."

"I count six." Varric chimed, raising his tankard to him.

He glared at them both, hard, but if anything that was just fuel for Hawke. Get angry with her and she knew she was doing a good job.

Ugh! The two of them together was almost unbearable, and he rolled his eyes as the others laughed anew. Varric and Hawke flashed each other another secret look, then turned back to their cards with smug smirks.

Until…

"Dealer wins!" Josephine announced, giggling as she showed them all her cards.

"Wait, what?" Hawke and Varric exchanged yet another look, and this time it was Cullen's turn to laugh, as he was sure they'd been helping each other cheat this entire time.


	3. New Wounds

Another round and an hour later, and Cole wandered up to the table, pulling on Varric's shoulder.

"Varric you said you wanted me to come."

"Hm? Oh kid!" He jumped to his feet, taking the strange boy by surprised as he grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him towards the dark haired rogue; who was still glaring down at her cards, picking her teeth with a nail and trying to figure out how Josephine kept winning. "Hawke, look, I have a kid now. Kid, meet Hawke. Hawke meet kid."

She glanced to him from the corner of her eye with a frown, looking a little dubious if not thoroughly amused. "Varric, you never told me we had a son. I would have brought a gift for the lad." Abandoning her cards, Hawke leaned back and held her hand for him to shake. Cole stared.

"A fleeing bird. All those people. She wishes she'd killed him. But how do you kill someone you love? Love, hate. Maybe she's not sure. Maybe he's dead anyway."

There was a moment's silence, interrupted only by Sera's light snoring (who had fallen asleep just before her fifth drink) as Hawke slowly raised one eyebrow.

"Huh. Well that's creepy."

"Err, yeah, he does that sometimes. Sit down kid, Ruffles will deal you in." Varric pulled up another chair and pushed Cole down before he could put his foot in it again. Cullen had not realised how important this little game was to Varric; but watching them now it dawned on him just how much the dwarf valued Hawke's approval. He wanted her to like his new companions, and in turn wanted them to like Hawke.

It was almost amusing, and Cullen smirked into his drink as he took a large gulp.

"So," Bull slurred to his right, "I hear you killed the Arishok."

Cullen spluttered on his ale and choked on it, a reaction only beaten by Cassandra, who nearly fell off her chair with a girlish squeal in response. He hadn't even thought she could make such a feminine noise.

However, most surprising was Hawke's reaction, in that she barely reacted. Sitting calmly and looking up to the Qunari through her thick lashes. Smiling. "Those are the rumours."

"Exactly. Rumours." Bull leaned back, smacking Cullen on the back just that little too hard.

"Argh! Why?!"

"You're saying I didn't?" Hawke said over him, touching a finger to her nose, the small gesture making Varric wince.

"Oh I think you killed him. Just not on your own."

"Bull," Gwen spoke, for only the third time that night – not that he'd been counting. "Drop it, we're playing cards,  _not_ discussing Kirkwall politics."

"Sorry boss, but I  _know_  when I'm smelling bullshit."

"I'm sure you do." Hawke muttered under her breath. Despite himself, Cullen laughed.

"Hey! I'm not doubting you're The Champion, or undermining your skills with that wooden stick. I'm just saying, the arishok was a big guy. And the way Varric talks about you – I was expecting something more… more."

Hawke opened her mouth, but was silenced immediately by a bang on the other end of the table. He looked down to see Cassandra on her feet, chair on the floor, and face flushed with rage – and maybe, probably, alcohol.

"How dare you treat The Champion with such disrespect?!" She shouted, attempting to unsheathe her sword but succeeding in only waving her mug of ale instead. Successfully splashing Cullen with drink – not Bull.

Hawke and Varric shared another look before leaning back in unison with wide smiles. In fact, the woman looked incredibly smug, hands crossed over her chest as Cassandra defended her already terrible reputation.

"She is a hero! A woman who worked herself up from  _nothing_."

"Well… not nothing nothing." Hawke said, but for the first time that night went ignored.

"She could beat you with her hands binded!"

"Let's not – "

"And with her eyes closed!"

"If I might interject – "

"Well let's try it then!" Iron Bull was on his feet too, slamming his hands against his chest. Hawke's lip curled, as if not quite sure what was happening and wondering how she'd lost control of the conversation so quickly. Cullen caught eye contact with her for a few moments, and they shared a little silent conversation like she did so often with Varric. Only that Cullen wasn't as good at reading her looks, and didn't know whether to put an end to their squabbling or start taking bets. He instead turned to Gwen, who despite making his knees wobble was a lot easier to understand. Except she wasn't looking at all, the Inquisitor had her head in her hand, shaking it gently.

"Ooh! Like a duel." Josephine murmured, clapping her hands giddily. "Its so romantic."

"You mean awesome. Urgghhh. Come on, Champion!" Bull was psyching himself up, slamming his hands onto the table once again, glasses rattling. Yet Hawke remained seated. "Come on birdie, I won't even tie you up first. Unless that's how you like it."

Wrong words. Varric and Cullen winced as Bull put his foot in his mouth. Worse than Cole ever could have managed.

"Birdie? Oh no, no, no, no, no," Hawke laughed, running a tongue over her sugar white teeth. "You sure you want to do this, big guy? Qunari are kind of a specialty of mine."

"Bring it, birdie!"

She sprang over the table before he'd even finished, and Bull had only taken one step back before Hawke was upon him.

Using one horn as leverage, she grabbed on and swung her legs off the table and into the air. Hawke managed a full spin, curling her knees to her chin, before her feet came back down and landed – right onto Iron Bull's face.

"UNNGH!" He stumbled back and the two started to fall across the tavern. Bull took his chargers by surprise as he landed on their table, splitting the wood in two with a large crunch and falling to the ground with a cry.

They left their game of cards and rushed over, all except Cassandra, who was doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach. And Sera, who had slept through the entire ordeal. The Inquisitor reached the couple first, but Hawke had already sprung back to her feet, wiping herself down and flashing Varric a proud smile as he returned to her side and gave her a pat on the back.

"Bull are you okay?" Gwen asked, leaning over him. Cullen felt the prickle of jealously as she did, why couldn't Hawke have kicked him in the face?

"Huh? Oh, yeah!. Shit! What a move!" She started to help the qunari to his feet, and Cullen moved to help immediately. This proved to be a mistake though, because as soon as he was up Iron Bull was whacking him on the back again, chest rumbling with a loud laugh. "You really are The Champion!"

"That's what they tell me." Hawke murmured. Cullen turned away and rubbed the sore spot where Bull had hit him. He noticed then how small her smile was, how Varric didn't even bother, and he wondered how hollow that title sounded to her now.


End file.
